Chicago
by Vamp-by-Night
Summary: HAITUS. He had vampire strength and she had none and yet they both reached for the gun.The jazz, the liquor and the husbands that just wont stay dead. Full summary inside. B/E, A/J, R/Em, C/E.
1. Trailer

**AN: So this idea for a trailer I got from another writer. I think it's a cool way to give you a taste of what's to come. There's a full summary in the next chapter. Read on! And REVIEW. **

_The killers…_

_Announcer: And now presenting the four merry murderesses_…

_Bella_

"Come on babe, why don't we paint the town…and all that jazz."

~x~

"You don't know me at all, Edward. I'm not the same wife you left to fight that war all those years ago."

_Alice_:

"Jasper and I..." Shrugs innocently. "I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences…"

~x~

To Jasper: "You mean you're immortal? Well I'll kill you again, you lying bastard!"

~x~

"He saw himself as alive- I saw him dead."

_Rosalie_:

Rosalie: "Is my sister a vampire too?"

Emmett: "No, you actually killed her, Rose."

Rosalie: "Good. I always hated that bitch."

~x~

To Bella- "Stay the hell out of my limelight."

_And_ _Esme_

"Not guilty."

_And the vampires who love them:_

_Carlisle:_

"Esme, my love, you'll find I'm much changed since you saw me last."

_The Scheme_

Edward: "I'm breaking her out."

Carlisle: "She's on the cover of every paper in this city. You can't just barge into her cell and turn her loose."

Edward: "So what do you suggest? Letting her hang?"

Carlisle: "Billy Flynn."

_The glitz_

Billy Flynn: "You're the sweetest little jazz killer to ever hit Chicago. You're a star, kid."

Bella: "I am? I _am _a star aren't I."

_And things that go bump in the night_

Edward: "If you knew what I am, what I've become, you wouldn't tempt me like that."

~x~

Emmett: "That …bitch she tried to kill me!"

Carlisle: "She did kill you, I only found you on your last breath."

~x~

Jasper: To Alice- "You're crazy for trying to kill me but I love you. But don't think for one second that means that I'm not picturing you blood running down my throat."

_And all that Jazz_


	2. After you've Gone

**AN: You might be pleasantly surprised to find that I did my research for this story and actually found some non-Chicago songs to inspire the story. The song that Bella sings is actually a real song recorded in 1918 and re-sung by various artists. **

Summary:

They had it coming. The four murderesses purred as they battered their eyes at the cameras. Four murderesses, including Bella find out the hard way that the husbands they thought they killed didn't stay dead. And when they do they're going to wish for life in prison. Bella was a young once happily married good girl who got caught up in the growing jazz culture while her husband was away fighting the Great War. One night they get into a headed argument which results in a terrible altercation. He had strength and she had none, and yet they both reached for the gun! Now she's doing the cell block tango along with Alice, Rosalie, and Esme. But the dirty bums didn't stay dead. No their husbands are alive, so to speak and they've reformed their ways. Only will their secrets make their murdering wives so scared they want to stay in jail? Follow me on this jazzy, fun, moral-less ride. All cannon pairings with switching POVs.

Prologue:

The metallic bars slid shut with a cold shutter. The camera's flickers were just a distant memory. It was cold and dark there. No hint of the bejeweled number I was wearing earlier…and certainly no hint of my husband, Edward Masen's blood. Had there been blood? I hardly even know. I was too much in shock to look.

How could tonight have happened? Our marriage had gone sour years ago but tonight… What had I done? Killed…my husband…dead.

Bella

It was all because of that damned war; they were calling it the Great War these days but back then there was nothing great about it. I remember it as if it were yesterday. How I cried genuine tears of anguish when I saw his beautiful bronze hair duck into the car and drive away from me. We were a young couple, not even married a year before he decided to enlist in the army. We were so young then, just eighteen. I wrote to him everyday, knowing that less than half of those letters would ever make it to the trenches.

I remember how blissfully overjoyed I was to find out that the war had ended only a year after he enlisted. I waited and watched as everyone's husband, brother, lover returned. I waited not knowing who would come back to me. If he had been greatly changed by the things he'd seen- things he'd done. Slowly they came; some missing limbs and some scarred so badly I wondered if it had been better if they hadn't. And I waited for a husband that never returned.

Then a month later an officer shows up on our doorsteps telling me he's sorry but Edward had gone missing during a battle and there was no evidence of him. You can imagine my hurt and frustration to know that the man I wrote everyday had abandoned not only his troops but his wife. Yet still I waited to hear word at least that he was safe. But no such letter came. So I figured that he had taken up with some pretty French broad and wasn't coming back. After all, it never made sense for perfect Edward Masen to love plain old me to begin with.

While I waited a movement was growing in my city of Chicago. The men were back, the women were loose, the hair was short, and so were the dresses. The days of stuffy corsets and tall piled hair were over. It was the jazz age and like any single young women in the city alone I became captivated by the flapper lifestyle. I cut my hair short and even got a job singing at the local joint downtown. At first, it was to earn money to support myself. Then pretty soon I became enamored by the glitz and glamour of it all. I'm not going to lie; I loved the attention that I wasn't getting in my lonely home. On the stage, I wasn't shy Bella, the small town girl from Forks; I was beautiful Bella the enchantress jazz singer.

"And now a slow number from Bella Swan," the announcer bellowed. He always told me my maiden name was suited better for the stage.

I picked a sweet number that night. It was the song that would comfort me as I cried myself to sleep after Edward left. The night was late and the audience was past drunk so there were no complaints about my somber song choice.

I stepped into the limelight, my black shimmering dress clinging to me with a deep plunging neckline a la mode. The piano and clarinet began to play and I closed my eyes, swaying slowly, and thought of him as I sang.

"Now won't you listen honey while I say?

How could you tell me that you're going away?

Don't say that we must part

Don't break you baby's heart…"

Some of the audience member closed their eyes and begun swaying.

"After you've gone and left me cryin'.  
After you've gone, there's no denyin',  
You'll feel blue, you'll feel sad.  
You'll miss the dearest pal you  
ever had."

I tried to fight back the sob building in my throat as I continued to croon. I knew that after this number I'd need a drink, a nice cold one. I continued to sing.

"There'll come a time, now don't forget it  
There come a time when you'll you regret it…"

Then I saw him walk in. That gorgeous unkempt bronze head of hair- the hair that I'd ran my hands through so many times, that I'd fisted in pleasure, I'd recognize anywhere. He was wearing a dark suit and hat which he removed as he neared the stage and the light caught his hair. His eyes locked on mine and I almost forgot the words I knew so well. _It's Edward. It's my Edward! _

"After I'm gone, after I'm gone away"

Little did I know that it wasn't _my_ Edward at all. You see, the Edward I knew left home with emerald eyes and a warm gentle manor. This Edward had honey eyes, pale skin, and there was something not quite right about him, something that scared the hell out of me.

That night I found out that he hadn't abandoned me after all. He had been hurt during a battle and left in a French hospital in a coma with no tag or id on him to link him to the Americans. Now he was back after four years.

I knew the moment I stepped off of that stage that things were different. I rushed off at the end of the song and flung myself into his cold arms. They locked around me and held me and for a minute I was happy. Then I noticed he was still carrying two bags in his hands. A sudden realization hit me. "Edward, how did you find me?" I asked. You see, after Edward never showed it became extremely difficult for me to pay the bills considering I'd never worked a day in my life. And the army refused to pay for the wife of a deserter. So I sold it and moved into a little apartment in the city.

His strange brown eyes pierced mine and then he explained, "When I went to the house the couple living there gave me the address to find you. Your next door neighbor told me that you'd be working here so…here I am" All of this was said without the slightest hint of emotion. In fact Edward seemed to be disappointed in something.

I self consciously ran my hands through my now short curly hair. _Maybe he doesn't like the hair…or the dress…or the fact that I'm singing at a club serving banned liquor. _Edward had always been very conservative. I secretly wondered if he was disappointed in my career choice but didn't say anything of it.

That night he explained to me what had gone on in France, which was only after I'd prodded him about abandoning me for a French whore. It should have made me feel better but it didn't. I felt as if there was something he wasn't telling me but once again, I ignored it.

It was easy to overlook the change in Edward at first. The gloominess, I blamed on the horrors of the trench warfare. I knew if I was patient with him things would get better and for awhile it did. Though he didn't get his old job back he got another job working as a photographer for a paper. The job kept him busy in the office during the day and on the streets at night where he preferred to shoot most of his pictures.

The problem was that Edward expected me to return to the blushing stay at home bride he left all those years ago. While he was away he'd missed that memo that times had changed. I had changed. Gone was the shy small town girl who thought she was ugly. When Edward left I became enamored with jazz and the night life. With the changing trends it was my petite frame that was preferred over the curvaceous buxom beauties. I felt beautiful and desired, especially on stage. I learned that I loved the night life of jazz and liquor and I was unwilling to give it up.

It had been just my luck that the one night I decided to perform something sexy Edward would decide to take the night off to watch me work. And why that no good louse Mike Newton decided to be a particular thorn in my side that night I'll never know. The lights dimmed and the crowd went wild as the spot light shined on me, revealing my sparkling short red dress complete with thigh high panty hose and exposed garter belts. The music started and I begun to shimmy my hips seductively.

"Come on boys why we don't paint the town…I'm gonna rouge my knees and wear my stockings down…start the car I know a whew wee spot where the gin is cold but the piano's hot….all that jazz"

The crowd went wild as I finished my song and sauntered off the stage towards the bar for some of that cold gin I was singing about.

"How you doing doll" Mike slurred as he neared me and I knew where the conversation was going.

I rolled my eyes and gave him the cold shoulder. "Sorry, Mac. The bank's closed."

Mike only laughed and proceeded to glide his slimy hands along my exposed thighs. Before I could sock him in the jaw as usual, he grabbed my head and rammed his tongue town my throat. _Gag._

As I struggled to escape from what must have looked like a passionate kiss I heard someone clearing their throat behind us. Of course it was Edward glowering murderously at me. "Am I interrupting something" He asked.

"As a matter of fact you are pal," Mike spat. His hands were now resting possessively around my waist. For some reason, and I don't know whether it was the shock of seeing Edward there or the anger of having that snake's tongue down my throat, but I was too shaken to move.

"Um…Edward…nice to see you?" I sputtered but didn't bother to remove Mikes hand from my waist.

Edward's eyes raked us both over and his eyes suddenly went black. Without another word he turned on his heels and left. Needless to say I was not looking to coming home that night.

I tried to be silent as I stumbled into the dark apartment two hours later. Suddenly the light flickered on and my very furious husband stood in the living room with his hands folded, the way Charlie would sit when I was a teenager sneaking in. Thankfully his eyes had changed from that chilling black color back to that still unfamiliar honey. "Anything to say for yourself, my dear?" His jaw was clenched.

I swallowed loudly for a moment and then bristled. For some reason I felt angry. _What does he mean? Talking to me like I'm some naughty little child. Well I'll show him. _"As a matter of fact I do. Where have _you _been my dear husband?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Have you forgotten _wife_ that I work nights. And you're the one stumbling in here in the middle of the night like a drunken tramp"

I reeled back as if slapped. How dare he? I was far from a tramp. In fact I should be sainted the way I'd been faithful to him all these years, even of late, when he never touched me.

"Bella what to do mean by prancing around on stage wearing that and draping yourself all over that scum bag tonight" He demanded and then smirked smugly. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were having an affair with that…"

That was it. "You'd _think! _You'd _think _I was having an affair! What if I _am_ having an affair with Mike Newton" I shouted. At that point I was beyond furious and his contemptuous attitude sent me over the edge.

"Don't toy with me Bella. I know you're not…"

"Don't you tell me what to do, Edward. You think you can just waltz back into my life after all these years…I'll have an affair with Mike Newton if I want"

Edward was silent for a moment and when he did speak his words were measured and restrained. "I was trying to tell you I know for a fact that you are not having an affair with that man so if you'd stop with your theatrics…"

"What do you mean, 'you know'?" I demanded. "What you think- I'm undesirable is that it"

He shook his head, "I cannot explain to you why but it's not that"

"Then what is it then? _You_ clearly don't want me" I accused. I wasn't thinking clearly and the words I would come to regret spewed freely from my mouth like vomit. "You haven't even touched me once since you've been back. Well I hate you Edward Masen. I wish you'd died in that war instead of coming back here and…" I shrieked and reeled back to avoid Edwards hand across my face. But he stopped himself, his hand suspended in mid air as we both looked at it in disbelief.

His face was filled with mortification. "I'm so sorry Bella" he muttered as he tried to hold me but I flinched away from him.

"Well aint that just the bee's knees." I laughed dryly. "Edward Masen finally gets the gall to put his hands on me." I stumbled towards the bedroom towards the bottle of gin I kept stashed under the bed. There was a glass already on the bedside table so I filled it and took a deep numbing gulp.

I wasn't thinking straight. So I couldn't process the fact that Edward wanted to hit me.

Meanwhile Edward stood frozen in shock at his actions. He watched me leave but didn't say anything for awhile as I drunk myself numb. Eventually I heard the bedroom door creak as he entered the room looking solemn. "Bella I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I could have killed you…"

"From a slap. I doubt it" I muttered between swigs. _What does he mean, 'could have killed' me? What's going on in that crazy mind of his?_ Subconsciously I began edging for towards the gun I kept in the nightstand. As my eyes searched, to my surprise it was already outside of the drawer and perched on the top of the table. _Someone took it out? Edward…why?_

His eyes followed my movements. "I discovered it there earlier, I must of forgotten to put it back," he explained at my suspicious glare. Suddenly his words seemed all too clear. "Bella you cannot possibly think…I love you Bella. You are my wife."

"Then why don't you ever touch me" I screamed.

"You don't understand. It's complicated" he yelled back. "I…might hurt you"

"Then hurt me, beat me, anything but your cold indifference Edward," I cried. Edward didn't respond and, feeling dramatic as I was, I began to pack my bags. I don't remember what happened in detail after that. All I know is we got into another screaming match and the next thing I knew we were both reaching for the gun. I grabbed it first, closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger without thinking.

I was standing in the same position with the gun in my hand when the cops barged in and arrested me.

**AN: So what do you think? Should I continue? Review or this story gets the ax. Muahahaha. **

**Thanks ;)**


	3. He had it Coming

**AN: Thanks for all the love for this story. Edward is a little backwards in this but hey, he's a product of the times. He'll learn though. Feel free to sing along!**

**Review so I know to continue. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago or Twilight but I do own a pair of fishnet stockings and red lipstick. All I need is my very own Edward Cullen and I'm set. **

Drip…drip…drip…drip….

The hollow sound of water leaking echoed in the dark chamber. It was a small and ill lit cell, just a cot and a wooden chair in the center. But then again, what did I expect from jail. Jail. I was in prison, me, Bella. The water dripped on and on, counting the seconds that rolled into hours as I sat in a catatonic state staring out into the darkness, Numb and immobile.

I killed him. Dead. Gone. Forever. Me.

He would have killed me first, wouldn't he? Didn't he reach for the gun? I hardly remembered, it all happened so fast.

I was terrified. What would happen to me? Surely this crime is big enough for a hanging. I grasped my neck just thinking about it. Then again there was the abnormally large amount of press I was receiving. When they dragged my shell-shocked body downtown I swear there were at least dozen camera men all waiting to take my picture. Can you believe it? At the rate this was going I'll be famous if I ever get out of here.

I can see it now; me standing in a spotlight, dripping with pears and diamonds. The crowd goes wild. My voice on all the radios. Maybe even a movie deal.

"What are you so happy about toots? Didn't you hear you're a hanging case?" A cold voice seeped from the cell next to me. I tried to make out her figure but the light between our cells was dim.

Leisurely, she stepped into the dim light and my eyes slowly combed over the statuesque blond before me. I was Rosalie Hale, _the_ Rosalie Hale. Well I'll be…I had practically all her records and was her biggest fan. "Rosalie Hale! I can't believe I'm sharing a cell right next to you"

She rolled her eyes and yawned affectedly. "Yeah, what of it" _God she's a real bitch in person. _Then she sauntered away from the light and draped herself over her cot like she was the queen of Egypt. _Talk about putting on a Ritz. _"So how's a sweet innocent looking girl like yourself land in a joint like this" She asked detachedly as if she really wasn't interested in the answer.

Her question only bombarded my mind with flashed of tonight. I blocked the visions out. They were too painful, too real. I didn't want to accept that Edward was dead, couldn't. "I..I don't know. I didn't mean to do it. I swear"

She chortled. "Yeah yeah. Tell it to Sweeny" She sneered then busted into laughter. "Half the broads here are using that same line so you better find another one," she advised.

_Huh?_

Suddenly the lights in the cells around me flickered on and my eyes strained to make out the women surrounding me. Their figures became clearer as they walked closer to the bars.

My eyes widened as they drank in the three beautiful women before me, including Rosalie. Each one of them looked as if they belonged on a stage and not in a dark cell.

"So…How'd you all get locked up" I asked when I found my voice.

The little one on my left was the first to speak. She was beautiful little fairy, no taller than 5 feet. Her hair was short, like mine, but her black curls curved upwards, giving them the appearance of little spikes. She was a delicate little thing. I hardly believed that anyone that small could end up in prison.

"I starting dating Jasper Whitlock a year ago" She said in her high pitched voice. "He was real sensitive and caring, one of those artist types, you know?"

She started pace the floor as she spoke, restlessly. "So anyway, he was always going out at night to find himself. Turns out, he found himself another girl. Well you can say we broke up because of artistic differences." She shrugged innocently and added, "He saw himself as alive and I saw him dead." When she finished my mouth had hit the floor then she smiled her innocent pixie smile like nothing happened. How could something so ferocious be contained in that little body?

Rosalie, not liking the fact that the attention was no longer on her, spoke next. "My sister Tanya and I had a record deal and a world famous act." She announced as she smiled all proud of herself. "Anyway, so one day after performing at the hotel Cicero we start boozing and having a good time. We run out of ice and I go out to get some." She paused for dramatic effect and leaned in despite myself.

"When I came back, _there_ was my husband Emmet and Tanya doing the spread eagle," she spat bitterly and then hurriedly re-plastered on her haughty expression. "Well I was in such a state of shock I can't remember what happened. It wasn't until I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead," She spat and everything was silent for awhile.

_Looks like I'm the least crazy one around here. _

Lastly the women directly across from me stepped into the light. She was maybe 4 years older than me and had long dark curly hair; very unusual for a woman of the 20's. I could tell she was one of those stiff Victorian conservative types the way she carried herself; the type that never showed their legs or listened to "loose" music. When she began to speak, it was a little difficult to understand her because she had a heavy French accent.

"J'ai adoré…I mean I loved Carlisle more than life itself. He was a doctor and we met one day while he was on a tour of Marseilles. He rescued me from my small town life and we were married in America the next year. Life was wonderful until five years ago he disappeared... and they arrested me for his death." _Holy smokes! She's been here 5 years!_

"So…" I leaned in towards her. "Did you do it?"

She shook her head fervently. "No. Not guilty." She cried in her broken English. I believed her. Esme Cullen, as I would learn had a kind heart but very little money to pay her legal fees. It was looking bleaker for her every passing day.

"They had it coming," Rosalie muttered to herself. There was a crackling sound as she lit a cigarette and brought it to her lips.

Perhaps they did. But did Edward?

Edward's POV

Is it possible for a vampire to go into shock? Because I'm sure that's exactly what happened to me the minute my wife tried to put a bullet through my skull. The metal collided against my skin with a force that sent me flying towards the ground. I'd been shot before; twice while fighting. Both times the bullet barely grazed my skin but everything within me told me that a bullet wound to the head would be painful. My body reacted more on human memory more than actually circumstance. So when she shot me I was on the ground in an instant and I stayed there, not fully cognizant that I wasn't actually dead.

I remained there in shock; too shocked to move or to say anything, not sure if any of it was actually happening. I lay there praying for death that would not come. My world went black and then brightened again.

The sound of a zipper wrested me to alertness. Free from my shock induced trance, my killer instincts took over and my eyes drank in the stark lights above me.

"Edward you can get up now. No one else is around"

I climbed out of my latest coffin, a body bag, robotically and turned to face the man who sired me.

"Edward, you've been presumed dead just hours ago," he informed me.

"She shot me," I stammered in utter disbelief.

"I know…I'm sorry" he said as he placed a comforting hand on my back. In the stark lights of the hospital he really did look like an angel and I thought back to the first time I saw him.

I was dying, but then again, who wasn't? I had gone months living 6 feet under ground in the rotting trenches. The stench of human waste and dead bodies was everywhere-the sound of bullets and the taste of mustard gas eating my flesh away and driving me insane at the same time. I was dying and the Germans had nothing to do with it.

For fun, because we had all gone a little crazy, we liked take wagers on how we'd die. For most of us it was from the disease of the week; spreading among us like the rats swarming our dugouts over a piece of stale bread. For the unfortunate few it was the mustard gas which ate away at your flesh slower than it ate away at your sanity. It made you crazy, see things, do things. And then for the select few of us, death came in the lucky form of a swift bullet to the head.

My immune system was strong and so was my mind and so I'd been able to resist death gas and the two bullets that grazed me but that day dead gripped me in spite of that. Out of nowhere I was coughing up blood and hallucinating. I knew I was crazy when I saw my wife sitting casually across from me in the trench, her long brown hair waving as the bullets flew overhead, her long dress ankle deep in blood and shit.

Poor Bella, this was no place for a lady, even just in my head. I didn't want her to see me like this. Even in my mind, I didn't want my bloody, beard stubbled, gun strapped physique offending her delicate sensibilities. I loved her so much. She was like a delicate little bubble; I needed to keep her safe.

"Goodbye my love," I whispered as I reached my blacked hands to trace my thumb over her pouty lips and fainted.

When I came to I was lying on a cot surrounded by hundreds of writhing bodies and scampering doctors who looked like they were at deaths door themselves. The angel of death hovered above me. _Funny, I never took the archangel for a blond._

He opened his mouth to speak but the sound of death escaped my lips. I doubled over and coughed up blood. "What's…cough…wrong…cough cough…with me?" I asked the angel.

"You're dying."

It wasn't in me to play with God and his servants but despite myself I rolled my eyes. "It's a war. We're all dying. Can you be more…cough…specific."

The angel spared a patient smile and said, "Spanish influenza is what they're calling it. You're body is failing you."

Tell me something I don't know? I wasn't worried about my self, only my wife. Poor Bella. She was so innocent, so green. Who would look out for her when I'm gone? I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her without someone to take care of her.

"I…don't…cough…want to die," I pleaded to the angel before me and his warm honey eyes clouded with inner conflict.

"I'm no angel… perhaps even the opposite," he warned. "But I want to help you."

And so I traded my soul to live. But I couldn't just show up on her doorsteps. No, there were rules for the undead and Carlisle taught me well. He also taught me to suppress my thirst for human blood and feed off animals.

Three years after my death I was finally ready to part ways with my friend and mentor. He was sad to lose me as a companion and his thoughts told me he was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the changes I'd find once I got back to the states. I didn't understand of course. I'd spent four years away- three of those years hiding away from civilization.

I didn't understand until I stepped into that smoky little club and saw her; the love of my life dressed in what my mind had only known to be whores clothing and singing something that sounded completely foreign to me. My first thought was to wail in despair that my sweet wife had resorted to whoring and kill every man in that building with a wayward thought of her. I stood there, slack jawed, watching her wearing something I would only expect to see in bed with her long chocolate hair cut short as her beautiful voice undid me with every note. To add to my frustration, I couldn't hear what her mind was thinking at all.

Her hauntingly beautiful voice faltered when our eyes met and for a moment I was alive again.

So she wasn't a whore, she was working, which was also new for me. Apparently I had missed when skirts went from ankle to knee length, but apparently that was acceptable too. And her hair, even I had to admit looked decidedly adorable on her slim figure.

"How do you feel?" Carlisle asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Betrayed, hungry, heartbroken, mad as hell. Take your pick," I mumbled resentfully.

"Which feeling is more eminent" he asked, he knew me well enough to steer clear of the obvious issue of my wife's attempted murder.

"Hunger" I muttered dejectedly.

"Well let's remedy that right now" I followed him out of the hospital to hunt.

As I followed him a question had been plaguing me. The last time we parted Carlisle was headed to England. What was he doing here in Chicago? And working at a hospital?

"So, you're not going to ask me what I did to make Bella shoot me?" I asked as I glided through the trees.

He shrugged. "I know you, Edward. You probably had it coming."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"And believe me son, I have more pressing matters to concern myself with than your marital drama," he added as if what Bella and I had was an everyday tiff and not attempted homicide.

"Like what?" I asked, genuinely concerned about why he was in America.

"Like my wife, for one. And your new brothers."

He found his wife? Brothers? He turned more of us?


	4. I Move On

**AN: So I'm trying to keep this vampire story as realistic as possible: oxymoron, I know. So throughout the story there will be some 20's slang and culture references. Like in this; Yes, Chanel was the designer of the 1920's. Also, I had to plug my favorite silent film of all time in this. **_**The Big Parade**_** came out in 1925 but I'm just going to ignore that fact as this story is set a couple years earlier. **

**AN2: This is really my favorite chapter so far. It took me so long to write because I've never written Alice or Jasper before. But I'm really happy with it. They might be my favorite couple in this yet.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it. Oh when will SM listen to my advice and make Twilight a Broadway musical? lol**

**Warning: Who's up for a questionable lemon and remorseless murder? I am!**

**Song: I Move On- Chicago- end credits**

When I can't find a single star to hang my wish upon  
I just move on...I move on  
I run so fast! I shotgun blast  
can hurt me not one bit!  
I'm on my toes! 'Cause heaven knows  
A movin' target's

hard to hit!  
So as we play in our ballet  
we're not the dyin' swan  
We just move on...we move on

Jasper's POV

They say that there's a little bit of good in everyone.

I always thought that that was a load of horse manure. That is, until I met that sweet little baby faced dame. After almost a hundred years of a damned and dark existence of course when I fall in love it would be with an absolute maniac.

But more to that later.

I was with a woman- beautiful. I still noticed; I wasn't that far gone not to. She smelled like liquor and other men and lust was pouring off of her, crippling me with it. I swallowed loudly and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Her neck, I decided would do nicely. Whores were my latest craving.

She stalked towards me like a predator and I almost laughed. If she only knew… I let her think she was overpowering me and stepped back until my back met the concrete wall behind me. The alley was dark; only a little light streamed through from the nearby street. I let her kiss me. Her lust got the better part of me and I returned her kiss in full; letting my sharp teeth graze her lips and my venom taint her blood. She stiffened and tried to push away at my chest but her blood was sweet. I drank her there until there was nothing and left her body leaned against the wall like a prop.

Suddenly the sound of frantic heartbeats and heels slapping the ground hurried in my direction and I retreated further into the alley until I was completely obscured from the light.

From the dark I saw a pretty little angel. She looked like little porcelain doll. She was tiny, no taller than a child but she was no child. Her black hair was short and spiky and her lips were the poutiest set of red stained lips I'd ever seen. I wanted to suck the blood from those lips.

She was followed by two burley looking men but strangely there was no fear coming from the little pixie who was obviously about to be threatened.

"Look, lady. Give us the fur coat and your purse or else." To emphasize his point he pulled out a knife and inched it towards her.

For some reason unknown to me, everything within me screamed in fury at the sight of them threatening this helpless woman. Which was odd; humans didn't mean anything to me. They were just pretty food. What was this little human to a creature like me? I tried my best to keep my fury from spreading to them because the last thing I needed was it escalating the situation.

She pursed her lips and stood tall like a brave little soldier and said, much to the shock of everyone including myself, "No."

The men looked confusedly at themselves and then back at her. "Are you crazy or something? We aren't kiddin' around. Give us the goods or I'll cut you a new smile."

She narrowed her eyes at them and spoke in a high yet determined voice. "This coat and this bag is Chanel and if you want it, you'll have to pry it from my cold dead fingers."

I was floored and so were they. I'd never seen such courage from anyone that small in my life, not even in battle. The men inched towards her and I debated with myself.

The knife inched towards her pouty lips and I made my decision.

"Hey," I called as I stepped out from the darkness. "You heard the lady. Scram."

"What are you going to do about it cowboy?" One of them goaded and inched the knife closer to her face. My eyes darkened but before I could act she kneed the man in the groin and he stumbled backwards gripping himself in pain.

"Little bitch." The other man lunged at her and I closed the gap between us and slammed both of them against the nearest wall.

Their fear was so strong I could taste it when they looked into my black eyes and it took everything in me not to slaughter them both. "Leave," I growled and they scampered off.

We were alone and she was boring holes into me with her gaze. My eyes raked over the fierce little creature before me. She was beautiful and yet unafraid of being alone with me. Her eyes briefly flitted to the barely canceled corpse leaning against the wall behind me and I flooded her with a false sense of calm. I inhaled, which brought her sweet smelling blood to my attention.

Then she smiled at me and I was hers. "What's ailing her," she motioned to the dead women, slumped against the wall.

"Ale," I shrugged and gave an easy smile. She giggled.

"You're a real lady killer, aren't you?" She joked and I struggled to keep my face blank.

She had no idea.

I kept sending her false waves of calm as I steered her away from the alley and my victim until we were down the street. Then a wave of desire stronger than any feeling I've ever experienced radiated from her to me. It crippled me. The desire wasn't lust in particular but just want and dire need. She wanted me. Even as we walked I was beginning to feel the anxiety of our impending separation set in to her emotions. I didn't understand it but I wanted to meet that desire in every way. And so began my slow descent into heaven and hell.

I knew I was going to regret by next action but I turned to her and said, "My names, Jasper Whitlock by the way. And you are…"

She said my name silently to herself and looked up at me with that earth shattering smile of hers and I knew I'd do anything for that smile. "Jasper…kind of sounds like jazz. Can I call Jazz?"

I smiled, despite myself, a remnant of my old southern charm. "It depends on when you call me that, little lady."

"In the throws of passion, of course," she said sweetly while maintaining her innocent smile and batting her eyelashes and I nearly choked on the venom in my mouth.

"That is," she continued while I struggled to come out of shock, "If you're not too much of a southern gentleman to let a girl thank her hero properly."

X

I followed her to a cab where she chatted incessantly about nothing in particular. It didn't really bother me as much as mindless human chatter usually did. Everything about this little sprite drew me in. I trailed her hesitantly up to her apartment, not sure if it was bloodlust or just plain lust that I was feeling. My plan, in all honesty, was to kill her once we got inside. But when she opened the door my jaw dropped open. I'd never seen so many things in my life. Aside from being an expensively decorated place there were literally unopened hat and shoe boxes everywhere. Outfits, still in their bags littered every surface. Paintings leaned against every wall as if they'd been recently purchased and have yet to be hung. And I can't even begin to get started on the jewelry.

She followed my eyes and gave a little shrug. "I run out of space to keep them all." She stifled a giggle at my baffled look and then began scanning for a suitable place to sit. "Okay, I admit. Everyone's got their own addiction. Mine is things."

"I can see that," I said in a wry tone and she flashed me that smile of hers. If I wasn't careful with that smile of hers I'd be likely to end up one of her kept things. Not that I would mind.

My eyes found the not yet littered bar counter behind her and I strode towards her, grasped her by her tiny waist and set her up on it. "Who buys you all these things, little lady," I demanded softly as I gazed into her eyes which were now at my eye-level.

She batted her eye lashes coyly and I struggled to keep my overwhelming lust from spreading to her. "Aren't you strong."

"I'm not that strong," I lied. "You just happened to be very tiny. And you're deflecting. Who buys you all these things?"

She giggled and smirked innocently. "My daddy."

I stepped into the space between her open thighs. There was a tiny change in her expression, too small for any human to notice. She bit her lips for a fraction of a second and then re-plastered on a saucy smirk. I noticed.

My eyes darkened. I wasn't from this time but I knew enough of the jargon to know that she wasn't talking about her father. The intense feeling of possession I felt was irrational but no matter how hard I tried to suppress it it wouldn't go away. She was mine. I wanted no one else having her. But such thoughts would only awaken the monster within me so I smiled and kept it light.

"And what about love, Miss Brandon?" I asked, dodging the elephant in the room. "Don't you want that too?" I wasn't sure why exactly I asked but she seemed like the kind of woman who had her emotions completely screwed. She was pouring emotions on me like a faucet but not one of them was the kind of emotion a woman feels for a man or even a person. All she felt was need and want, like I was one of her things she had to have. And for a fraction of a second when I moved closer to her there was intense lust but she quickly shooed it away.

"Tell me Jazz," she asked, never changing her light tone. "What is love?"

I thought good and long about how I would go about explaining this to her. God knows I was the last person qualified to explain human emotion. The only emotion I let myself feel was the fear of my kill. That, I reveled in. I had felt love before; between two passing humans, but had usually shut it out. And I couldn't remember being in love when I was alive. Those last memories of life had been tainted by war and death.

"It's…" I struggled to find a reference. "Have you ever seen _The Big Parade_?" She nodded and I could feel her confusion. "Well you know that final scene?"

"Where he's lost his leg in the war but he goes back to France anyway looking for Melissande?" she added whimsically. _Women and their movies_. I nodded.

"After all the horrors and massacres that's passed between them he finds her and their eyes lock," I explained, attempting to sound detached like a lecturer and failing. "That look between them that takes everything away; that's love."

She smiled that misleading innocent smile of hers and poured her violet eyes into mine. She looked at me as if I were a beacon of light in the darkness; something pure and good amidst the monsters of this vile city. I had her fooled. And that was precisely the moment that she fell in love with me. I felt her warm emotions fill every inch of me, breaking me, molding me. I felt my dormant heart swell with her emotion. When exactly I fell in love with Alice Brandon, I'm not sure but it was somewhere between hello and that moment.

Alice:

My day had gone from bad to worse until I saw him, standing there looking like a dark angel in the dimmed street lights. I knew from the moment I saw him that he was meant to be mine. It was like that feeling you get when you see a designer hat in a window, you know you have to have it. I needed to have him.

I was surprised that I was so overwhelmingly drawn to him; a seemingly harmless southern charmer. Bad guys were usually more my style: mobsters and big money bootleggers to be more exact. Which leads me to why my day was going so shabbily.

James; a real big cheese in Chicago. He was big bootlegger who happened to be rich, egotistical, and ruthless. And I was his moll. Apart from being a sick coldblooded bastard, he had a real baby doll complex with women; he liked them tiny, diminutive, and especially dumb. All to indulge his sick fantasies, I'm sure. I wasn't the latter but for a couple of diamond earrings I could pretend. I liked things not men. And I liked the things he gave me. So kept my trap shut while he paraded me around as his latest pretty little dumb Dora.

Until I finally got sick of the act and told him I wanted out. Being the perverted little snake he is, he put a gun to my head and told me he'd kill me if he ever heard me talking like that.

So I told him to kill me, dared him to do it. I may be a lot of things, but intimidated by a man was not one of them.

Then I grabbed my bag and coat and stormed out. That was me; Alice Brandon. I didn't connect with people, just things. People only caused trouble; only used me. And when it didn't work out, I just moved on.

And then Jasper Whitlock came along and broke me. He chiseled away at all my pretenses, my money, my stuff, and striped me clean. I fell in love with him on the spot. He wasn't like James or any of my other rich daddies. He was caring, gentle, and in tune with my emotions.

He was real eccentric too; never went out on sunny days but preferred the gloom of an overcast day and the twilit evenings. He never ate, of course that was probably because of my terrible cooking. I was the kind of girl who usually ate out. Apart from his beautiful features; straight carved nose, roguishly long blonde hair, and muscular yet lean build, he had the strangest ever changing set of dark eyes. Sometimes I swear I could see a speckle of red in them.

He came and went. Where he went I knew not. Sometimes he was gone for days. He was one of those artsy types; you couldn't keep him in one place for long. When he was here we talked, he kept it vague, and I listened. We laughed, we danced, we made love and oh we fought. He thought I was selfish and materialistic and I thought he was darker than he was letting on. I loved him. He loved me. It was perfect.

Until I found him cozying up to another girl.

I saw him that night. It was the same night Rosalie Hale got arrested for killing her sister and husband. I was at that club, drinking and having a good time. She was crooning out some song on stage that should have been a two person act.

The spotlight accidentally panned over the crowd and I saw him…and her.

"Be right back, Kate. I've got to go powder my nose," I whispered to my confused friend and shuffled out of the building.

I stepped out of the club and instantly took a step backwards. There he was with some hussy leaned against the wall. She was moaning and groaning like some tiger in heat and she had her arms around _my _Jasper. It's a pity I didn't carry a pistol on me or else I would have killed them both. I kept quiet and peaked again and saw his lips go to her neck and she moaned again. I'd seen enough.

"Where are you going? The show's just getting started." Kate exclaimed, when I breezed back in and grabbed my purse.

"Out for blood, darling," I said in my typical baby doll voice but it was laced with venom. "We'll do lunch, tomorrow."

With that I stormed home in a jealous rage. I paced my apartment for what seemed like hours, reasoning with myself. If I was some innocent little girl I probably would have just cried. But I didn't cry, couldn't. I was too royally pissed off to cry. I, Alice Brandon, was a lot of things; a gangster's moll, a shopaholic, and what Freud would call a neurotic. But I would be damned if Jasper Whitlock thought he was going to go with another woman.

The verdict; he had to die.

Jasper

I was screwed and I knew it.

I knew the moment she stepped out of that club that it was over. I could smell her scent but what could I do, stop feeding off the woman and let her turn? No, I couldn't and so I let her think whatever she thought and didn't try to stop her from going.

I debated with myself for hours; wondering the streets of Chicago with that woman's blood fresh on my lips, until I found myself at her door. Her door was unlocked at I let myself in, preparing for the worst but expecting what I got; a gun pointed at my chest.

I could have laughed at the gesture if her emotions weren't so gripping and frantic. Poor sweet little, neurotic Alice. If only she _could_ kill me and put me out of my misery. "Alice, let me explain," I pleaded, already prepared to lie to her again.

"No," she screamed and moved her finger over the trigger. "Everything you say is a lie." _True. _"You said you loved me and that was a lie."

"No Alice, I _do_ love you. Never doubt that."

She moved the gun's aim to my head and if only she didn't have such a sweet face she'd have looked fearsome. Just before she could press the trigger, my quick reflexes kicked in and I closed the distance between us and grabbed her hand midair.

"Listen to me, Alice," I begged as she struggled against my grasp. The gun was still clenched in her hand as she struggled futilely against my strength.

"No," she sobbed. "I trusted-…" She broke off into sobs and tried again to aim the pistol at me. I pressed her gently against a nearby wall and gripped the pistol in her hand, pinning it against the wall. The, other I caught midair, refraining it from colliding against my solid chest.

I knew what I was doing was wrong and yet I couldn't stop it. It was like a never ending cycle. Her emotions kept cascading to me, gripping me with pain and anguish and I wanted so badly to make it go away but I couldn't. I was the cause of that pain. So I kissed her, deeply and felt her hot tears sting my lips.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured against her skin as I trailed kisses along her jaw to her neck. What else could I say; 'I'm sorry Alice but that woman you thought I was fooling with is really my latest victim'? No, I'd rather she thought I betrayed her rather know what I am; a killer.

"Why… you're just like ever other louse in this city." Her voice was full of hot tears. The little sprite was so full of fury and passion. It swelled from her to me. "I'll kill you," she shrieked and tried again to move her triggered hand from my grasp.

"Yes," I confessed, "I am, and probably worse." I moved her robe aside and hoisted her up by her creamy thighs. She fought me but I could feel her anger morphing into arousal and it fueled me on. "Kill me later darlin' I need you now."

"I hate you," she hissed as I entered her hot wet core.

"I love you," I crooned. God, what kind of monster have I become? After this, I promise myself I'd find a way to stop killing. It was making me cruel, callused.

I freed her hands and moved mine to roam her lace clad body. She moaned and dropped the gun. I heard it clatter as it hit the floor. "God damn you," she whispered and I kissed her fiercely. Little whimpers escaped her mouth and I drove into her heat repeatedly.

"I know baby. I know," I soothed and wasn't that the truth. I was as damned as they come. She grabbed a fistful of my longish hair and tugged. I barely felt it. What I did feel was her orgasm building, dragging me right along with her. She fought every step of the way; trying her hardest to make herself stay angry. I could feel every ounce of it.

Fresh tears spilled from her eyes as her tight walls shuttered around me. She cried out, despite herself, and clutched me to her fiercely. I felt every ounce of pain and pleasure I pulled from her. "I'm so sorry," I muttered against her neck as I came inside of her and I was; sorry for being such a monster, sorry that my nature couldn't be hidden.

I stepped back drunkenly and let her down. Hazily, I leaned against the wall I had her up on and let out a ragged breath.

With hooded eyes I watched her silently as she bent down and retrieved the gun and paced across the room. Her emotions were all over the place and I had to actively block them out to think straight.

"What are you doin' Alice?" I asked, nervously but she didn't answer.

She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off a nearby table, lit one and put it to her lips erratically but still remained silent. She was conflicted, I could feel that.

"Alice, baby let's talk about this." I pleaded, trying to calm her down but not moving from my spot. I didn't want to make any sudden movements and scare her into doing anything rash. "Alice-"

The sound of the gun exploded and a bullet hit me dead between the eyes. I think I was more shocked about her aim than anything else. "What the-"

Another bullet hit me and then another and I quickly that realized if I didn't want to bring the Volturi out here I was gonna have to play dead, quick. I went down after the last bullet but not before seeing her grab a coat, drop the lit cigarette on the floor and dash out. Not an ounce of remorse.

X

"Wow," Edward said when I was done recanting my tale to him.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed. "You win. Your girlfriend's the craziest."

I cleared my throat and rolled my eyes. "At least I didn't _actually _cheat on her or try to hit her like _some _people."

Their anger radiated off of them and they both moved into defensive positions. Oh please, Emmett was easy to take, even if he did have newborn strength and Edward had nothing on me. I've been killing vampires for a century. Edward growled at my thoughts and Carlisle cleared his throat.

"Anyway," I sighed. "So after the little spitfire shot me I went searching; to find myself, if you will. I tried to hunt but whenever I did I saw Alice's hurt face and I knew I didn't want to be a monster again. Then I found Carlisle and he led me to his way of life."

"But your eyes," Edward interrupted. "They're-"

"I slip." I shrugged nonchalantly although I felt differently.

**AN: I channeled a bit of Sid and Nancy in this chapter. I wanted these two to be crazy in love. Lol I think this chapter is Sid and Nancy meets Vicky Christina Barcelona meets Chicago. Hope you liked!**

**PS: If you knew how I'd toiled over this chapter… Show me some love guys. Hope I didn't offend anyone's sense of decency with the chapter. The lemon was sort of my favorite to write so far. It's kind of…questionable but I liked that about it. It's so emotionally charged. Anyway, what did you think and what do you think of my version of Alice and Jasper?**

**Next back-story up: Emmett and Rosalie. **


	5. Good to Mama

**AN: I know, I promised you back-story but I've decided to jump around a little. Hope you like it and feel free to sing along. I know I am.**

**Song: Good to Mama- Chicago, of course**

_And now ladies and gentlemen: the keeper of the keys, the countess of the clink, the mistress of murderess row…. Matron Mama Warden!_

1 Week Later

Bella

"But I don't understand, Mama," Alice's high pitched voice was saying as I neared the warden's office with her morning tea and paper. She liked to run the prison like her own private castle slash horse ring. We did her laundry, shined her shoes, and made her breakfast and behaved like good little murderesses and she _allowed _us to bribe her into getting us the necessities like cigarettes, liquor, and of course, hair die.

"I didn't _hire _him to be my lawyer and I sure as hell am not paying him that monstrous fee he charges."

"Hey," Mama snapped, "Don't shoot your fat mouth off at me." Then she seemed to have calmed down and her voice re-gained her mock benevolent tone. "Beside's I'm just the messenger. How the hell would I know who hired him? You just be thankful he's taking your pretty little head on. Half the girls here wish they could have him."

Alice sighed sullenly and mumbled, "Thanks Mama." I heard her chair creak which told me that she was about to leave until the warden cleared her throat.

"Ah ah ah. Are you forgetting somethin' Tinker Bell?"

Alice sighed again and I heard the crisp sound of crinkling dollar bills change hands.

"Always a pleasure doing business with ya sweetheart." Alice got up and started to walk towards the entrance I was currently standing at. "And by the way, what are you pleadin' cause it sure as hell aint innocent?" She cackled to herself.

Alice neared the door and could see the broad self satisfied smirk on her face. She looked at me and winked then waltzed out the door half singing, "Temporary insanity, of course."

I was left there with my mouth slightly agape and staring after her. Of all the murderesses in prison with me Alice seemed to be the most difficult to understand. She wasn't particularly vicious or mean spirited and yet she didn't really seem to have any shame about calmly killing her ex lover. Rosalie I could get, she had yet to mentally acknowledge her crime and she was actively blocking it out. I didn't have to have a fancy degree in psychoanalysis to know that she was a classic case of repression.

I, on the other hand, was going through denial and I knew it. At first I just didn't know how to feel. The man I had known and loved with all my heart died to me when he went away and I couldn't connect with the man who came back. So I just couldn't feel as guilty as I should. And as for the common decency of feeling remorse for taking a human life, that eluded me as well. I just felt… really disconnected from it all. And that was rare considering I'm the girl who cried over her dead goldfish. It was as if in my heart I knew that my Edward was somewhere still out there.

"Are you just going to stand there all morning?" 'Mama's' voice snapped me back to consciousness and I hurried clumsily into her office with her tea and paper. The paper, I eyed, had Rosalie Hale's face printed brightly on the front page but another slightly smaller image caught my eye. It was a picture of my own face right beneath hers that read, "The latest little jazz killer." My face went ashen.

"Mama's" eyes followed mine and she gave a little harrumph and motioned for me to sit down.

"Isabella Swan," she read the paper aloud as I awkwardly sat across from her on the edge of my chair waiting for her to continue. She obviously liked to see me squirm because she took her cup of tea and took a long drawn out sip before continuing. "Born to a respectable family in small town Forks, Washington and eloped in a runaway marriage at 16."

What? I cleared my throat to explain that Edward and I did not elope and were married in a church with my parents there but she kept on reading. "This poor wayward sweet-faced girl was led astray by the life of jazz and liquor and was arrested for trying to defend herself against her drunken abusive husband."

My mouth flew open but no words could come out.

Mama set the paper down with a bemused smirk. "Well I've gotta hand it to you Sweetheart, you can't buy this kinda publicity."

Huh?

"You've got that innocent appeal- not like Rosalie," She explained but my mind was still reeling from the words of that paper. Surprisingly I found myself more upset about the false words printed of Edward than myself. I shook my head several times to get a hold of myself.

"So I'm gonna help you out," Mama stated climactically and I trained my confused eyes on her.

"Ask any of the chickies in my pen," she stated grandly. "They'll tell you I'm the biggest mother hen. I love 'em all and all of them love me. Because the system works; the system called -reciprocity!"

She stood up from her chair and began to pace the space behind her desk and I looked up at her with wide eyes.

"I've got a little motto- always sees me through; when you're good to Mama,  
Mama's good to you."

Why was I so upset about Edward? Did it mean that I still cared about him? And if I did, why couldn't I feel guilty?

"There's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do," she explained. "You do one for Mama,  
she'll do one for you."

God, why did he have to reach for that gun? Maybe I was just being too rash but I was only acting on instinct; doing what he himself told me to do.

"They say that life is tit for tat and that's the way I live," Mama kept on explaining even though my attention was miles away from that office. "So, I deserve a lot of tat  
for what I've got to give."

"If you want my gravy, pepper my ragout. Spice it up for Mama, she'll get hot for you…"

I lost her when she started talking about herbs and spices. My mind, instead drifted off to fonder memories of my late husband. Why'd he have to teach to me to use that gun?

Chicago 1916

Edward doubled over and laughed rousingly as I attempted to aim the pistol, took a step forward, and managed to catch my shoe on my ankle-length skirt, sending me flying forward and struggling to regain my balance.

"Edward," I wined whist stamping my foot impetuously and catching it on the skirt again. But my cruel husband only began laughing even more; his emerald eyes tearing with amusement at my usual clumsiness. _Laugh it up. Why don't YOU try aiming a gun and walking in a dress._

"I'm sorry love," he murmured with mirthful eyes. "Here, let me show you how to aim again."

He moved into a familiar position behind me and ghosted his hands over mine. The act sent delightful little shivers to my core and I had to focus to keep my fingers from wobbling. But when he dipped his head to my ear and whispered; "Good girl" I spastically fingered the trigger and jumped in shock. If the thing had been loaded I would have probably shot the poor neighbor's dog. I groaned in aggravation.

"Edward, I don't see the point in my learning how to shoot," I griped. "It's not like there are any Germans here for _me_ to fight." I was still slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was leaving me and just the mention of him going away cast a cloud over my spirit.

"Because," he reasoned. "You're too trusting and easily taken advantage of. I want to make sure you know how to defend yourself Bella."

I groaned in agitation and resumed aiming at our backyard's hedge; picking out target spots but the wind was making it increasingly difficult to focus. The wind picked up and managed to untangle the intricate planned chaos that was the piled-high nest of pins and curls on my head and my long chestnut hair began whipping around my face.

I growled in irritation and Edward again chuckled at my clumsy aim. "It took me all morning to do my hair," I wined, hoping he would take pity on me and give up on teaching me. I was wrong. He looked at my wild hair which was flying around my shoulders and face dotingly and smiled that familiar lopsided grin of his which always made my knees weak.

"Well now, this is even better," he mused. "I was planning on messing it up anyway. Now I have the wind to take the blame."

I beamed up at him. Really, how could I argue with that? My cheeky grin garnered a kiss as he leaned down to my level and caressed my lips with his. My lips opened upon request and I allowed his tongue to playfully dance with mine as I drank in the taste of him; committing everything to memory.

"And now, Mrs. Masen," he continued as if nothing had happened and clasped the gun from over my hand. "Do you see how I have a firm hold of it?"

"Firm hold…uh huh…" Needless to say my mind was nowhere on that gun.

"No- not like that. You're being too delicate love." He scolded and I snapped to attention. "A wobbly hold will throw off your aim when it's loaded, Bella."

I nodded earnestly but secretly griped. Really, were all the G.I. wives in their backyards right now learning how to shoot? "What next, are you going to teach me how to throw a punch too?" I sighed in vexation. Really, I didn't consider myself a delicate thing or anything but I wasn't tough either. I didn't see a reason to be. I'd always grown up seeing the good in people and thinking the best of everyone I met.

"Would it offend your sense of delicacy too much if I did," he asked with a serious face.

"Hardly." I rolled my eyes at my all-too-proper husband. "I may be a woman but I'm not some little delicate bubble, you know," I lectured firmly. "Besides, Mr. Masen if I had any sense of delicacy left I'm sure you chased it away last night."

He gave that irresistible grin of his again and I found myself too dazzled to speak. "Is that so, Mrs. Masen?" he asked and my knees almost gave out.

I gulped and struggled to find my voice. When I did, I nodded and said, "Such reckless abandon of propriety- no wonder you're giving me this gun. I'll likely use it to ward you off, next time."

His smile never left his face as he neared me. Feeling emboldened, I pointed the gun at his chest and narrowed my eyes the way I envisioned a shooter would and whispered bang. Then I brought the steel gun to my lips, placing a kiss on its shaft.

Edward's eyes darkened with desire. He let out a frustrated groan and closed to gap between us. "I swear, Mrs. Masen, you'll be the death of me," he whispered and he began feasting on my lips.

~X~

Present

I smiled at the memory but it soon turned into a cold grimace when the irony of it hit me. Why did he have to teach me how to shoot? Better yet, why did he leave me and come back someone else? Why was he so cold and distant to me? I tried to be a good wife and I would have tried harder for him if had just let me in a little; let me get to know this knew person the war had made him become.

Oh God, why did I have to drink so much that night? I was so angry at him; I can't believe I said such terrible things! I'm a terrible terrible wife. No wonder he was so cold to me. Did he even reach for that gun or am I just imagining it to vindicate myself? Tears threatened my eyes.

"You listening, toots?" the warden's voice brought me out of my self cross-examining and I nodded even thought I hadn't been listening to a word she'd been saying.

She seemed marginally convinced of my rapt attention and prattled on but this time, I didn't allow myself to think of Edward.

"The folks atop the ladder are the ones the world adores. So boost me up my ladder, Kid. And I'll boost you up yours."

"Huh?"

"Let's all stroke together," She added and I wondered if she was propositioning me, "Like the Princeton crew; when you're strokin' Mama, Mama's strokin' you"

"Um…Miss… what exactly are you-"

"Uh uh, sweetheart," she cut me off with a dramatic wave of her finger and I clamped shut. "Around here you call me Mama."

"Sorry, _Mama_, but what exactly are you saying?" I asked carefully.

She deflated and it was apparent that she preferred more theatrical tactics of communication. I was half expecting her to produce a rather large feathered fan and stage mike but waited quietly for her to explain.

She sighed exasperatedly and said, plainly "When you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you," and slid me a card across the table.

I took the card hesitantly and read the neatly printed letters; Billy Flynn, Defense Attorney.

She leaned back and entangled her fingers the way a self satisfied villain does when he plots. "He's the cat's pajamas around here sweetheart," she said. "You see where this is going, I help you- you help me."

"B-but I don't have anything…" I sputtered and she put her hand up.

"Not yet. I'll get my payment later."

"But I don't have the money for any fancy lawyers," I protested much to her chagrin.

She let out a ragged breath and muttered to herself, "I have to lead the horse to water _and _teach it to drink," then turned to me. "A pretty little slice like yourself- you should have no problem getting Flynn to take you on."

I gulped as the full weight of her words set it.

**AN: So who's paying for Alice's lawyer? And what's Bella going to do about getting Billy Flynn? I mean, we all know that all he cares about is love, right? *Laughs hysterically* There's only one way to find out. Stay tuned. And review.**

**And yes, we will pop over to the vamps and see how they're doing.**

**P.S.**

**The system works- the system called…reciprocity! See where I'm going with this? You review. I update faster. **


	6. Everything's Coming up Rose

**AN: Hi guys. Thanks for reviewing and adding this to alerts. Please REVIEW this chapter. Pretty please with a dancing Edward Cullen on top. **

*****Important: For all you non members, I'm changing the category of this story so it wont be listed under Twilight anymore. It'll be under Crossovers-Twilight-Chicago. **

Several weeks later:

_Announcer: For her first number, Miss Rosalie Hale would like to sing a song  
of love and devotion dedicated to her dear husband Emmett._

Rosalie

"Hey Mama, Look at this." I called as the warden walked by my cell. She stopped and gave me a look as if I was wasting her time but I didn't buy it. I took a drag off my cigarette, making sure to get her at little anxious before continuing. After all, I always knew how to keep my audience on their toes. When I was satisfied that she'd squirmed enough held the magazine up to her vision. "It's an editorial denouncing me in Redbook Magazine."

She raised her eye brow appreciatively and I couldn't resist my self satisfied smirk. I was quickly becoming infamous in this town and loving every minute of it.

"Not in memory do we recall so fiendish and horrible a double homicide," I read the article aloud to her and grinned victoriously. "Sophie Tucker eat you heart out. By the time I get out of this coup I'm gonna be selling out all the shows."

Mama looked down at the magazine and shook her head disapprovingly. "Baby you can't buy this kinda publicity."

And don't I know it. I was going to have to keep my act interesting if I wanted reporters to keep covering me until I got out and it was getting harder by the second with all these new acts- I mean murderers coming in.

"Look I talked to Flynn," She announced- getting right to it. "Your trial date is set for March the 5th. March 7th you'll be acquitted. Do you know what mama's got planned for you? I'm gonna start you on a Vaudeville tour."

I shrugged indifferently and she rolled her eyes. "I've already done a lot of tours. What kinda money you talking?" I asked.

"I been talking to the boys down at William Morris and I can get you $2500…"

A barely canceled gasp managed to escape my façade of indifference. "$2500. The most me and Tanya ever made was 350!"

She shrugged and said, "Well that was before Cicero. You're a sensation now."

Aint that the truth. I was more than a sensation; I was star- a big blinding one. Only this time there was no one to try to share my limelight. "Mama I've always wanted to play Big Jim's," I mentioned wistfully- my sly way of getting her to make the connections.

"Big Jim." She put on a pensive expression and remarked, "That may take another phone call- Fifty bucks toots."

"Fifty bucks for a phone call!" I shouted in outrage and her face remained impassive. Grumbling, I begrudgingly reached into my amble cleavage and slid her fifty dollars discreetly while muttering, "You must get a lot of wrong numbers."

She left as soon as I slid her the money and I relaxed against my bars with my head in the stars. Who knew that a double murder would be my best act yet? My reverie didn't last very long because almost immediately I was assaulted by reporters and photographers nearly wrestling with each other to get a shot. I straightened up, gave 'em my best side and remembered to look contrite. I didn't want them thinking I was absolutely heartless.

"Mrs. McCarthy," A reporter called.

"Hale," I corrected with a scowl. "Miss Rosalie Hale," I announced rather grandly and tossed my hair, which had been styled in a shoulder length bob, for the cameras.

"Do you have any remorse about killing you husband and sister?"

"Hey, hey- How'd you guys get in here? Press hours are over," Marcus barked as he began shoving the trespassing press away from the cells and towards the exit while waving his stick menacingly at them. I pouted. Really, I hated when the guards ruined my impromptu press conferences.

As the clamoring of the journalists disappeared the last question plagued me. Did they really think I was heartless? Flashes from that night immediately started assaulting me and I struggled to block them out.

I had been so angry when I went back to the hotel and saw them there; Emmett and Tanya. And I was so drunk- so drunk and furious. Everything-Tanya stole everything from me. That had always been our relationship even when we were young. If I got a doll she wanted it; not her own just mine. When I started dating my first boyfriend she cheated on hers with mine. _Evil little succubus._ We both grew up beautiful and competing for attention and she hated that Emmett married me. I always knew she did although she played it off well and acted like we were one big family.

And Emmett was… I smiled remembering Emmett's dimpled smile and his infectious roaring laugh. Sometimes I was wrong- sometimes right but he didn't care. He loves…loved me so. I chuckled emptily. That funny honey of mine. He adored me.

But I leave those two alone for one hour and come back and there they were; that tramp of a sister and that philandering louse of mine. Everything went black and then I was about to go on stage a few minutes later and there was so much blood everywhere- all over my hands. I don't even…remember what the hell happened.

Poor dear Emmett. What I wouldn't do to just…_What the hell? Is that Bella's picture right next to mine? _My eyes caught the latest paper with, as usual, my lovely face on the cover but more importantly the skinny little twit's was next to mine. _Ridiculous- it's even the same size article! _When did she suddenly go from just being the little side note to the opening act? _Harrumph. Everyone knows I'M the main attraction. _

Enraged, I furiously scanned the article featuring a short interview with the stage thief. _Ugh. Look at her playing the whole innocent girl card. _I was growling now. The nerve. A few weeks in the pen and all of a sudden she's the new hot item. _Harrumph._ Well not Rose. Those days of sharing the stage are over. If she was going to play the innocent card I was going to have to be twice as villainous. If she called a reporter I'll call a press conference. If she swooned, I'd faint. Nobody was going to top Rose.

She must have heard me growling over the paper because she suddenly stood close to the bars between us and asked, "Oh hey Rosalie did you see the paper? Can you believe it- my face next to yours?"

I rolled my eyes and pretended I hadn't noticed. "Oh, is that your face- I didn't notice." I yawned.

"So I have a meeting with a lawyer today," she began and I eyed her cautiously. "Billy Flynn..."

Now I was reeling. Not only was she sharing my cover and reporters but now she had her paws on my lawyer. I was positively incensed.

"I'm kind of on the edge because I don't really know how to convince him to take on my case- he's so expensive," she muttered nervously. "Do you have any advice?" she asked with her hopeful brown eyes trained on me.

_Yeah, keep your paws off my lawyer. _I smiled a sickly-sweet smile; a fake smile. "Aw honey, just tell him your sob story and show a little leg," I advised while struggling to keep a straight face. "He's a real softie for that stuff- only cares about love you know."

"So I keep hearing," she muttered wryly as if she didn't buy it. Smart girl. "Well it's true," I gushed. "Give it a try. Eat your heart out, kid. "What's the least that could happen?" I batted my lashed innocently for good measure and she smiled up at me hesitantly.

"O-okay. I'll give it a shot." She stuttered and I knew she didn't have a chance in hell with Flynn. But she was going to have to find out the hard way. Serves her right for taking some of the attention off of me.

~x~

Day after Bella's Arrest:

No POV

Edward paced the room frantically after reading the morning paper and seeing a shot taken of the previous night on it. His constant heaves of emotion were driving Jasper completely insane and he was struggling reign them under control by sending him false waves of calm to no avail. Emmett of course wasn't making the situation any better. In typical Emmett fashion he hooted wolfishly and said, "Wow Eddie- Seems like you have a real vamp on your hands."

Edward's erratic pacing ceased and he looked at Emmett's crimson eyes with confusion after which Emmett clarified. "That's slang for sexy. Jeez man, have you been underground or something."

"Technically yes," Edward muttered detachedly, of course referring to his time in the trenches.

Jasper rolled his eyes and hissed, "Your insensitivity never ceases to amaze me. No wonder your wife stabbed you." Jasper immediately regretted those words when he felt the wave of anguish, guilt, and despair that pervaded the air; feelings that emanated from Emmett.

"Boys," Carlisle scolded as he entered the room, concern and agitation marring his angelic features. "Can you all try to act like the adults you are?"

"Carlisle, I have to get Bella out of there now. She can't stay in a place like jail" Edward announced which sent a wave of tension around the room as everyone immediately looked at Carlisle who looked agitated to say the least. He was, of course thinking of his innocent wife Esme who had been in prison unbeknownst to him for five years. Carlisle didn't need to vocalize how insensitive he found that remark but instead proposed a solution.

"Edward," he began evenly, "she's on the cover of every magazine in this city. You can't just barge into her cell and turn her loose."

The other two vampires watched their interactions silently, not sure how to feel about the women who killed them. Emmett was too horrified and guilt ridden. He had it the worst of the two. Not only did he have to deal with the guilt of actually betraying his wife's trust but the horror of watching her slaughter her sister and himself then waking up to find out that he was immortal. To make matters worse he had to struggle with being a newborn in a city full of people- and he was doing a pretty good job at it considering.

Jasper on the other hand had been a vampire since the civil war and had already come to grasps with what he was, though he was struggling with his new diet. When he thought about Alice he felt a mixture of regret for not being honest with her and fury for the cold-hearted way in which she tried to off him. She honestly didn't regret it one bit and it shocked him. She was actually more of a cold hearted killer than he was. Which surprised him even more because despite of all of that he loved the crazy sprite.

"So what do you suggest- letting her hang," Edward shot back rather impetuously.

A barely masked feeling of utter agony pervaded the room. It was coming straight from Carlisle who managed to keep his thoughts buried from Edward who was staring at him inquisitively.

The flash of emotion quickly parted from Carlisle features and he replaced it with a grimly pained smile and everyone wondered silently what that was about.

"Billy Flynn," he breathed out silently as if he didn't trust his voice. Confusion filled the air and he cleared his throat and added. "He's expensive, exclusive, and he's never lost a case."

"Rosalie's lawyer," Emmett added quietly to himself and the rest of the room was secretly surprised that he had been paying such close attention to her case. What with becoming a newborn and taming his bloodlust and all.

Carlisle nodded and Jasper immediately made a mental note to get him on Alice's case. Edward did as well but he knew that Bella never accepted handouts. If he paid for the lawyer she could never know about it. Carlisle suspiciously blank face began to worry him.

"Carlisle… did I upset you with something?" Edward asked.

The mentor's face remained expressionless as he strode over to Edward, grabbed his paper from his hands and turned it over silently to present him with the article on the other side. But Edward didn't need to read those words that had already begun to flash in Carlisle's mind.

Esme… found guilty… awaiting sentencing…city wants to make her an example…possibly a hanging.

Before anyone could try remark or console their sire and mentor he was already out the door in a flash.

**AN: So I wanted to set everything up** **for the next chapters without going too much into everyone's back story. Hope you liked! Please post your review or response to this chapter. **

**Yes, that's right. Review! **


	7. All I Care Is love

**AN: Guys, I suck. The past two weeks have been hecktic with finals and term papers consuming my life. I really just had to take a step back from my fanfiction to get throught it all. But now I'm back and I'm definitely going to be on the ball with the updates from now on. **

**Present:**

**Bella**

I looked pretty…I think…I hope. I wasn't sure how this whole, 'seduce the big whig lawyer' ploy would play out and I was afraid. For the fist time in my life I was actually terrified for my own life. The fact that Esme had been sentenced to hang and then disappeared had lit a fire under everyone's heels. Well, everyone except for Alice who was becoming increasingly blasé about the entire ordeal. She cared for Esme's life, yes, but not her own and it was disconcertingly frustrating to watch while I teetering on the edge of lowering myself to get her fancy lawyer take me on.

"Well that was sad story kid." The silver haired fox folded his arms on the metal table and leaned in towards me. "A perfect story. You're case is a real show stopper I'll tell you that."

My mouth opened and closed briefly but no words came out. Hope was beginning to tell me that this man would take my case out of the goodness of his heart.

"And if there's one thing I hate to see is a sweet little miss like yourself suffer," he announced majestically, his voice getting louder and more fanciful as if he were some bejeweled circus announcer. "Really, many people think that I'm a man of business but inside I'm all compassion. I don't care about expensive things; cashmere coats, diamond rings, don't mean a thing, Miss. Swan."

"Mrs. Masen," I cut in but he continued his theatrical tirade all the same.

"All I care about is love."

_Honestly is everyone around here stuck in a Broadway musical?_

"Maybe you think I'm talking about my physical love, Miss Swan. Well, I'm not. Not just physical love. There's other kinds of love. Like love of justice. Love of legal procedure. Love of lending a hand to someone who really _needs_ you. "

_Oh Lord…_

"Love of your fellow man. That's the kind of love I'm talkin' about. And physical love ain't so bad either," he added with a cheeky wink.

"So you'll take my case?" I nearly embraced him in excitement.

"Of course!" His voice was equally as excited. He clamped his hands together and smiled gleefully.

"For free?" I couldn't believe my luck. Not only was he going to take my case but I wasn't going to have to demean myself to get him to do it.

"Heavens no!" He shot up from his chair and looked down at me as if I'd done the most reprehensible thing ever.

"B-but I thought you cared about love a-and l-lending a hand and…"

"That's preposterous, I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life" he bellowed theatrically and reached for his top hat which was sitting on the table. "_Good day,_ Miss Swan."

Oh no. I had to stop him. _You can do this Bella. This is your life here. _But how would I approach this thing called seduction. Certainly, I'd never seduced a man in my life- outside of Edward but with Edward I didn't need to be anything I wasn't. And I was no Sheba like Rosalie. No I was just Bella. On stage was different though. On stage I could be quite seductive when the music called for it but never off the security of the limelight stage with liquor and cat calls pervading the air. Without that I didn't know how to act. But Rosalie did. Rosalie excluded sex and danger. Perhaps I could borrow a few pages from her book.

"Is there _anything _I can do to change your mind, Mr. Flynn?" My voice was threatening to shake and I was struggling to keep it together. On the exterior my red lips were pursed in a pout that I had been told looked alluring on me. My warm syrup eyes were narrowed into feline slits, holding him in a unwavering stare. Inside however I felt like bolting through the doors, guards be damned.

"Nope." And without another word he donned his hat and was let out of the meeting room by the guard, leaving me utterly shocked and alone. Clearly this was the last time I was ever taking Rosalie's advice again.

About a minute went by and I was still just staring at the doors in utter anguish. I felt completely lost. Not once did I consider what would happen if Flynn didn't take my case. And now, with Esme being sentenced to hang it was becoming increasingly clear that the gallows were in my future as well.

But then the guard slid the doors open followed by Mr. Flynn who plopped back into his seat loudly as if nothing had happened. I said nothing.

"I'm gonna help you," he announced after some time of silence. My eyes lifted up to his in wonder.

"At what cost?" I uttered, not sure if not my body or money what else he wanted.

"Nothing, dear girl. Consider your legal fees paid for."

"What!?"

"Er- nothing, Miss Swan," he seemed a bit flustered for a minute until he regained his usual theatrical flair. "Consider it on me."

Was he on the level? "Why?" Now I was just being hostile and ungrateful and I knew it but I somehow couldn't believe that he had made me sweat in my seat in terror while all along knowing he was going to take me on for free.

"Because…" He paused and looked around for a second. "Because you've got potential, kid."

"Potential?"

"Star potential, Miss Swan. Now please keep up." I nodded raptly and gave him my full attention. "Magazines, newspapers, radio headlines. Don't think I haven't noticed you've been catching quite a bit attention."

"You're young and fresh and most of all innocent..." At my wry side glance he added, "In a guilty sort of way. But don't worry nobody really wants you to be innocent, that's not exciting."

"So what would be the point of looking innocent?" I cut in.

"_Beguilement_, Miss Swan!" he shouted. Obviously I wasn't going to interrupt again. "Everybody wants to have a silk scarf wrapped over their eyes. It's thrilling. It's exciting. It's…Chicago!"

"Look at the paper, the headlines. You're a star, kid."

Something shifted in me at those words. Deep down inside there was a part of me that was hungry, so hungry I didn't even know it. And his words were like bread and wine in a desert to that hunger. I was filled and yet starving for more. Never, or perhaps in a long time, had I felt as important and glamorous as I did now.

"I am?" I said meekly at first but then felt the change my nourished ego provided immediately. "I _am _a star aren't I."

"Attagirl, Miss Swan." He slammed his fist onto the table in excitement.

"Brighter than Rosalie?"

"Honey with my help you could be brighter than all the stars in the sky combined."

Wow. I let out a rugged breath as I let his news sink in. Mr. Flynn was a very capricious sort of man and it was easy to get caught up in his whim.

And then he started fast talking. "Now all we've gotta do is get you some glam and show off those gams, some glad rags and most of all, a hook."

"What kind of hook?" I asked but he didn't answer me. He was off from his high and now sitting quietly in deep thought.

"I've got it," he boomed and slammed his fist down on the table again. "I can see it now," and scrawled his hand across the air in front of him as if wiping an invisible glass. "They both reached for the gun."

~x~

**AN: I know this is uncommonly short but the later chapters will be longer and some future things need to get set up here and the next chapter. **

**As always please review and let me know if you're still with me. **


	8. Conjugal Visit?

Esme

A few days earlier...the time jumping will end I swear

The light above me were stark and white, not low and muted like the lights in the prison were. Perhaps this was heaven and I had died. How strange, to be dead at six and twenty. Oh but of course… It all came back to me in waves, like a rising tide filling the Marseille shore in the afternoon.

I was in another courtroom. That memory came first. They were speaking in such rapid clipped tones that it was difficult to understand. What a harsh language English is. What were they being so severe about? They'd already found me unjustly guilty. Really, what else could be done to me, perhaps a longer sentence? I'd already come to terms with the fact that I should spend the majority of my days confined to steel walls.

The judge looked at me and spoke but I did not understand. He was speaking too fast. And so I didn't respond, much to his shock. I just looked up at him with a lost expression and blinked. He repeated himself and the room tilted. My head collided with something hard and my world went black.

The last of the tide rose and quickly washed over me with comprehension. He said, "Sentenced to hand by a rope till death," and I fainted.

_I'm in a hospital._

I shot upward with a loud gasp which brought my state of dress to my attention. I was naked. No, I was still wearing my undergarments, thank God, but I was only wearing a short, papery hospital gown which barely reached my knees. Someone had undressed me. Who? No one touched me, no one but my husband. I felt angry and violated.

And I wasn't alone.

A doctor, a man, a tall blond man, stood across the room with his back toward me. It appeared that he was keeping himself busy with several hospital instruments. He had uttered not a word since I awoken but already I was finding something about him to be jarringly familiar. He wasn't wearing anything descriptive, just a white coat and black trousers from what I could see and his face was turned so that I could not even see a hint of his profile and yet I could have sworn I knew him.

"Who are you?" I asked, somewhat warily and he took his time in answering.

"Your doctor. You fainted today and hit your head pretty hard, Miss. Platt."

"Mrs. Cullen," I corrected to the man who had yet to turn around. His voice was smooth and soothing, like a deep little lullaby but it was unnervingly familiar and yet foreign all at once.

"Who are you?" I demanded again, trying to find the strength to stand up at make him turn around.

Silence.

"Carlisle?" I asked so softly I wasn't sure he heard it. Perhaps I had gone insane, like Alice or was just trapped in my own fantasy but in my heart I knew that Carlisle was alive and I wanted him to be in that room with me.

There was more silence. Entire minutes went by without him even acknowledging me or my statement. It was quite disconcerting and I was certain that I'd lost my mind.

"Yes."

I gasped and nearly fell out of my bed. "Truly?" He nodded without turning around. He was alive. I knew it. I knew he couldn't be dead. He was just lost or… "Where have you been?"

Again there was silence. "Je veux te voir" I pressed in a shaky voice. I was afraid, afraid that this wasn't real and it was all just a cruel dream. "Carlisle if it's you please…"

"Esme, my love," he said in his strangely melodic voice and I stopped crying. "You'll find that I'm much changed since you saw me last." And then he turned around and I fainted again.

The stark lights of the hospital room assaulted my eyes again. I groaned in agony as the memory of just why I fainted came back to me.

"Esme," the man was cradling me in his arms and stroking my face with his cold fingers.

"No you're not my husband," I shouted and covered my eyes to block out his hurt expression. "Go away. Don't touch me. You're not him."

"Esme, please." His voice was gentle and coaxing but I resisted.

I couldn't look at him. Not the man before me, that stranger, this mockery of my husband's beauty. The man before me was as pale as death with otherworldly golden eyes and his beauty was too daunting to behold. His beauty was like the sun, it caused me pain to look at it directly. The man before me resembled my husband vaguely…a bit. Fine, he looked a lot like him. But he was not, no. I kept my hands fastened over my eyes like an impetuous child.

"_Esme,_" he scolded in a musing tone as if I were some silly droll child.

I parted my fingers marginally to sneak a peak at him. What cheek! He was laughing me, not out loud, but his strange eyes were full of mirth and there was a hint of an amused smile of his sculpted lips.

"_Carlisle_," I sobbed and threw myself at him in joy. He held me for a moment while I sobbed until I sensed that something was different. I was suddenly afraid but I didn't know why and he felt so hard and cold. "Carlisle what is happened to you? Why did you leave? Where have you been?"

"I did not mean to leave you, my love. You must believe me. Something happened and I am…I…"

I gasped in realization. "_Tu es un vampire__._" Of course. It was so obvious. That skin, his coldness, that chill running down my spine.

He eyed me in astonishment.

"Did someone bite you? Is that why you left? Tu es un créature de le nuit?" My voice was probably taking on the erratic and excited tone of a young child.

Carlisle just chuckled and shook his head, mumbling under his breath about my penchant for novels.

"Carlisle you cruel man," I scolded. "Don't just stand there laughing-answer me. Don't you see my imagination is running rampant?"

He chuckled and silenced my rant with a finger over my lips. "Yes, I am a vampire, and immortal and in many ways a creature of the night."

I gasped and if his finger wasn't over my lips I would have assaulted him with another stream of questions.

"Explain," I managed to gasp, my heartbeat racing through the streets.

"Kiss me first," he commanded mischief and mirth in his voice.

~x~

"How are you fairing. Have they been feeding you well?" he asked in a concerned tone after many moments of silence had passed.

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter now that you're here."

"You haven't cut your hair, I see" he noted in pleasantly surprised voice. I suspected he was trying to change the subject.

I shrugged. "I don' see much reason to." Instinctively my hands went to my light brown tresses that had grown out even longer since he'd seen me last. My hair, which I stopped seeing reason to pin up, fell in billowing curls down to my waist much against the current fashion of ladies today. But what did I care for la mode. While the other ladies kept themselves up to date I spent much of my five years in captive fretting my fate and worrying for my husband.

"Your English has gotten better," he noted with a hint of a smile on his strangely pale face.

If he expected me to smile back I could not. I was too mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the man in front of me. He was still my husband and yet something different entirely.

"You are 23 still, yes?" I asked and it caught him a little off guard. He inclined his head and remained silent. It struck me extremely odd that I was now three years older than my worldly husband. He seemed young and yet older somehow. There was a weary timelessness about his face that made him appear so.

"And you're still a vision, Esme," he breathed after a long moment of silence. His cool hand cupped my heated cheek adoringly. "

"And you still make me blush, sir," I confessed and his lips were on mine again, moving slow and gentle at first and then more urgent as his hands frisked me over my hospital gown. I whimpered against his lips and with a growl my back was laying flat against the hospital bed.

I took that time to reacquaint myself to the man hovering over me, assaulting me most deliciously with his hands and lips. My hands combed through his hair, and then trailed down to his angular face, stopping to run my thumb over his plush lips. His lips quirked against my assault revealing the most blindingly perfect smile, I almost forgot to check for fangs, which I did. He found me gawking and grinned even wider.

"Don't worry my dear, I don't bite."

At some point after a long session of kissing and both of us needing a touch every part of each other as if making sure we were both real he begrudgingly pulled away from me and carted me upright with him.

"Non?" I pouted.

He smiled. "Contrarily to my actions this is not why I posed as your doctor."

"You mean to tell me that this is _not_ a conjugal visit," I teased cheekily which warranted a dimpled smile from my husband.

"Will you come with me, Esme," he abruptly asked and it took me a moment to change the course of my thoughts.

"Anywhere, husband." I breathed.

"Esme, listen to me carefully, my love," he instructed and I gave him my rapt attention. "There are guards outside of this room waiting to take you back, you will follow them and we'll meet again soon."

I nodded obediently. I didn't need to question my husband for further details when I trusted him so completely.

Things from there happened rather quickly. I redressed and left my hair falling over my face wildly and turned to leave. "I love you, Esme," he called after me when I'd begun quitting the room. "I never stopped."

Neither had I. But before I could tell him that the door swung shut and cool metal was clamped around my wrists. I put on a brave face as a sneaked a peak up at my captures; two tall men, one was frightfully brawny and was uncomfortably tugging on his uniform as if it were too small for him the other was more slender with the most interesting bronze color to his unruly hair.

Neither one of them would meet my eyes as they led me out.

"I take it I'm not going back to jail," I said, aloud, not to anyone in particular after one of the guards had finished signing the necessarily release papers and began herding me towards the doors.

"Nope," the burley one answered and the bronze haired boy jabbed him in the side.

**AN: Okay I just got over the most difficult hump of this story; setting everything up. Now that that's done things are going to move faster and follow more of the Chicago story line so grab a flask. We're playing fast and loose ladies and gents. **


	9. Note

**Hi readers**

**(Ducks behind a rather large randomly appearing tree) **

So remember when I said I would be on the ball with the updates? Um...not so much. I've been coerced into registering for summer semester and for anyone who's ever done a 6 week college course(in this case 4) you know how mentally exhausting and damn near physically impossible it is. I'm so very sorry but I just don't have the time or the presence of mind to continue this story for now. This is not an abandonment. I WILL finish this story because personally I hate when stories are abandoned but it probably won't be for another month and a half. Hopefully you guys are still interested by then. Either way, thanks so much for reading and your encouraging reviews. I really can't wait to complete my indentured servitude to this damn University and get back to having all things Twilight run my life. Thanks so much guys and I'm really sorry.

-Vamp-by-night.


End file.
